Weathered Too Young (27 page)

“Well…well
,
I’m sure we can use the help,” Tom began.

“But
the things you children will be needed to help with…well, they won’t need doin’ until a little later in the mornin’ from now on,” Slater added.

Lizzy looked somewhat relieved, but Johnny appeared offended.

“I can work as hard as any cowboy you got on this ranch,” he grumbled.

“That’s true,” Slater said.
“The boy does have a point, Tom.”

“Yes, he does,” Tom agreed.
“We might should put him out with the boys a couple days a week.
Especially since we’re short one hand.”

Johnny sighed with pride, though he frowned in the next moment.
“Why are ya short a hand?” he asked.

Tom shrugged, “Oh,
’
cause Slater beat the tar outta him for…”
He glanced up to Lark.
“For bad behavior.”

“You beat the tar out of a cowboy for bad behavior, Uncle Slater?” Johnny asked, his eyes widen
ing
with admiration and curiosity.

“It weren’t just plain bad behavior, boy,” Slater mumbled
,
taking a bite of the bread Lark had placed on his plate.
Lark frowned, the memory of Chet Leigh’s attack racing into her thoughts.

“Now, Lizzy,” Tom began, “Lark won’t need you up this early in the mornin’…will ya, honey?”
He looked to Lark with a conspiratorial wink.

“No,” Lark said.
“I usually don’t get started cleaning house for quite a
while.”

“Well…can I dust the parlor?” Lizzy tentatively asked.
“There’s so many interestin’ things in there.
I’d love to dust it.
Can that be my job?”

“If you really want it to be,” Lark said, tenderly brushing the girl’s cheek with the back of her hand.
“Do you want jam on your bread?”

Lizzy nodded with delighted anticipation—watched, enthralled, as Lark spread the shiny red strawberry jam over a slice of bread.

“Then
,
since you’re already up today
,
why don’t you start dusting the parlor as soon as the sun’s up
?
” Lark told the little girl.

“I will!” Lizzy chimed, picking up the slice of jam-slathered bread and moaning with delight as she bit into it.

“He’s just so tired out,” Katherine sighed as she stepped into the kitchen again.
She shook her head
,
placing a hand on Slater’s shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Slater.
I’m sure he kept you up all night.”

“Not at all,” Slater lied.
He glanced to Lark and grinned.
“I was already sleepin’ fitful.”

“That shoulder botherin’ you again, boy?” Tom asked.

“Among other things,” Slater said.

Lark felt her eyes widen, however, as Tom looked to her, smiled
,
and offered a knowing wink.

“When’s Thanksgivin’, Mama?” Lizzy asked then.
“I can’t wait for Thanksgivin’!”

“You ask her that every dang mornin’, Lizzy,” Johnny grumbled.
“You know we still got five more days
’
til it comes.”

Lizzy stuck her tongue out at her brother
,
and Lark stifled a giggle as Katherine scolded her.

“I love Thanksgivin’!” Lizzy said.
“Will we have turkey?”

“Yes, ma’am, we will,” Tom said.
“Me and your Uncle Slater will fetch it fresh the day before.”

“Do the other cowboys come in for Thankgivin’ with us?” Johnny asked.

Lark smiled.
It was obvious where Johnny’s ambitions were.

“They all got their own plans this year
,
I’m afraid, Johnny,” Slater said.
“But you’ll get to spend plenty of time with them this week anyhow…so don’t you worry.”

“And don’t you be encouragin’ my boy to run off to cowboyin’ like somebody else I know did once,” Katherine said, wagging an index finger at Slater.

“Don’t you worry, Kate,” Slater said, smiling.
“Johnny can cowboy right here for me and Tom.”

Katherine sighed, obviously relieved.

“Sit down and eat your breakfast, darlin’,” Tom said to Lark then.
He leaned over to Katherine and added, “She pulls this nonsense every once in a
while
,
and we gotta remind her to sit down and eat with us…instead of hoverin’ over us like a mama hen.”

“Sit down right here, baby,” Slater said, patting the seat of the chair next to him.
When she paused, he took hold of her arm and pulled her into the chair.

As she served herself some eggs and spread jam over a piece of bread, she listened to the children talking with their mother, Slater
,
and Tom.
A tiny twinge of resentment flickered in her mind
,
for this was how it would be now
—n
o more intimate conversation between just Slater, Tom
,
and herself at meal times
. A
nd there were more than twice as many people to cook for
,
to clean up after.
Still, she didn’t mind so much—for Katherine and her children were wonderful.
Furthermore, at least she would be warm this winter.

She felt herself blush as she thought of the warmth her body had known while in the arms of Slater the night before.
She couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to embrace him—to be warmed by the smooth heat of his skin
,
by the delicious pleasure of his kiss.

She was amazed at how unaffected Slater seemed to be.
He sat next to her, casually eating his breakfast, as if nothing had ever transpired between them.
Apparently her proximity to him did nothing to unsettle his mind and body the way his proximity to her unsettled hers.

Lark glanced to Slater and smiled as he laughed, displaying the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
She loved this about him—the fact that his face was not so boyish as the faces of some men.
His whiskers were thick
,
his jaw squared and firm.
The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes spoke of years of squinting in the sun—and of laughter.
There was nothing weak about him
,
and though his skin was soft, his hands were strong and callused.
Slater Evans was a man—a man of experience
,
weathered with living and working—and she loved him all the more for it.

“Pumpkin pie too?” Lizzy was asking.

“What?” Lark breathed, startled from her daydreams of Slater.

“Will we be having pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving, Miss Lark?” Lizzy asked.

Lark smiled, though Slater’s gaze lingering on her caused her to flush crimson once more.
“Of course!” she said.
“Your Uncle Tom saved the best pumpkins from the garden for our Thanksgiving pies.”

“Oh, Mama!” Lizzy squealed, clapping her hands together with delight.
“It’s gonna be wonderful!”

Lark smiled as Slater chuckled and winked at her.

It was going to be wonderful!
Lark glanced to Slater once more before picking up her fork and starting to eat her eggs—because any day in Slater Evans’
s
company was wonderful!
She silently scolded herself at her next thought, however—that any night spent in his arms would be even more so.



Thanksgiving Day dawned snowy and frigid.
Long before the sun had even begun to think about rising, Lark had risen to start the kitchen fires.
She’d been so thankful that Slater had killed and cleaned the wild turkey the day before
,
for she’d overslept a little
,
and it would have put her behind if she’d had to trudge through the task.

Soon the turkey was in the oven
,
and she set about in preparing other things for the special meal.
She smiled as she surveyed the many pies she and Katherine had made over the past few days.
She couldn’t wait to see the looks on the children’s faces when she told them she’d talked their mother into allowing her to serve pumpkin pie for breakfast!
Slater even had Johnny save the cream from the milking the day before for the breakfast pies.
It would be a lovely day—no matter the weather.

“It’s too much for you, isn’t it?”

Lark gasped, startled by the sound of Slater’s voice.
Turning around, she saw him leaning against one wall, watching her.
“What?” she asked, instantly uncomfortable.

“Cookin’ and carin’ for so many,” he explained.
“We’re runnin’ you ragged, aren’t we?”

But Lark shook her head.
“Oh no. No. I’m fine.”

“You tell me the truth, Lark.
You ain’t even dressed.”
His eyes traveled from her head to her feet and back, and it was only then she remembered she hadn’t taken the time to dress.
She’d been afraid that, in oversleeping, the turkey wouldn’t have the proper time to thoroughly cook if she didn’t get it in the oven immediately.
Therefore, she’d simply grabbed her shawl and raced into the kitchen, intending to dress properly once the bird was in.
Thus, there she stood—her shawl gaping open, revealing her nightdress. Her hair wasn’t even braided
,
and she combed her fingers from her forehead back to smooth it.

“I-I just needed to get the bird in so it will be done on time,” she sputtered as she took several steps toward her room.

Slater stepped in front of her, however, barring her way.
She swallowed the lump of titillation in her throat as she looked from his chest to his hair.
His underwear (unbuttoned as ever it was) gaped open
,
revealing the smooth contours of his torso—his smooth, warm torso.
Lark knew it was smooth and warm
,
for she’d felt it once before.
His hair was tousled
,
looking not so unlike Charlie’s did when first the little boy awoke each morning.
She was grateful Slater had taken the time to pull on his trousers, at least.

Quickly, she looked up into his face.
He was frowning down at her.

“It’s too much for ya, ain’t it? You’re too young to have to be
—
” he began.

Yet Lark’s fear of the cold
,
of winter
itself
,
crept to her thoughts.
Likewise, her darkest and deepest fear purely gripped her
,
for if she did not continue to perform her duties well
,
then winter and cold seemed nothing to the pain and misery having to leave Slater would heap upon her
.

“I’m fine,” she told him.
“I’ve been taking care of myself, as well as others, for quite some time now. I’m perfectly capable of caring for Katherine and the children as well as you and Tom.
And I
…
I rather resent your implication that I’m not up to the task.”

Slater’s eyebrows arched in astonishment at the strength of her conviction. “Are ya now?”

“Yes,” she said, trying to push past him.

But he caught her arm. “Whoa there,” he said.
“I’m just concerned about yer well
-
bein’. You’re doin’ too much
,
and you know it. It’s wearin’ ya out. I ain’t sayin’ you’re not capable of doin’ it
.
I’m just tellin’ you to slow down a might. The world ain’t gonna end if the turkey’s a little late gettin’ done.”

“This is my job, isn’t it? That’s why you hired me,” she told him.

Oh,
he
w
as so alluring!
She couldn’t look at him without her mouth watering for want of his kiss!
She only wanted him to reach out, gather her into his powerful arms
,
and assure her he wanted her there—that he would keep her.

“I didn’t hire you,” he growled through clenched teeth.
“Tom did.”

A sharp pain like a sliver of glass had been plunged into her chest tore through her heart!
What was he saying?
What did he mean?
Did he mean to tell her that he didn’t want her there?
That to him she was only a burden, a foundling with a need to earn her room and board?
Yet she thought of his kindnesses toward her—of his teasing—of his kiss.
He meant something else by reminding her that it was Tom who hired her and not hi
m.
The smoldering desire in his
eyes told her that.